


The Fashionable Frye Twins

by martialartist816



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fryecest - Freeform, Humor, Incest, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7219438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martialartist816/pseuds/martialartist816
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob and Evie attend the queen's ball, dressed for success and maybe a little espionage. AU becuase the twins aren't angry at each other when they get to the ball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Jacob Frye thought he looked absolutely ridiculous in Mr. Disraeli’s suit, and he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to make that red cravat look nice around his neck. The earl and his wife had been so kind as to loan the twins some luxurious garb so they’d blend in with the gentry, but they seemed to have forgotten to mention how one was to go about dressing in it.

Frustrated, Jacob left the infernal scarf hanging around his neck and went off in search of some assistance. As he opened the door of the train car he occupied, Evie tried to reach for the handle from the other side in the same moment. They shared a second of surprise but prevented themselves from crashing into each other.

“Oh,” Evie breathed, almost apologetically. It wasn’t until she spoke that Jacob actually recognized his own twin. With a hardly-concealed glance up and down her body, he admired the richly red and flowing dress his sister had donned.

“Don’t you look ravishing,” Jacob drawled with a lazy smile. It could have been playful banter, but he inwardly truly liked how Evie looked. The color of the dress complimented her well, and the usual braided bun kept her hair out of her face. She just rolled her eyes and brushed past him to get into the train car.

“I don’t want to hear any of your teasing tonight. This thing is impossibly uncomfortable.” As Jacob closed the door and turned, Evie’s back was toward him with her arms crossed. The corset remained undone, and the tangled strings swayed gently to and fro. Evie was facing away, but Jacob spotted a hint of pink on the tops of her ears.

Jacob understood, however. Those dresses the noblewomen wore seemed more like torture devices, and Evie could hardly move with it constricting her as much as it did. She must’ve felt vulnerable, given what that night’s mission entailed. Jacob definitely preferred his assassin attire over a dress any day.

“You’re just in time, actually,” Jacob said, and Evie turned around to see him. “I was going to surrender myself to this impossible accessory,” he gestured to his untied cravat, “when you showed up.”

Evie’s eyes glanced down to where Jacob pointed as if she were just noticing his cravat and shirt exposing the top of his chest. “Appears we are in similar situations.”

“Are you willing to strike a deal, Miss Frye? I’ll tie yours if you tie mine.” Jacob waggled his eyebrows at her, but she simply rolled her eyes again and stepped closer to him.

Her hands raised, making quick work of buttoning up the rest of Jacob’s shirt. The cravat, however, would take more time to decipher. As her fingers tried arranging the silky fabric in a design that looked nice, eyes focusing on her task, she spoke. “It wouldn’t be much of a deal. Tying a scarf is immensely easier than fastening a corset.”

She finished and tucked the ends of the cravat under Jacob’s shirt, and her hands patted his chest cheekily.

“Would you wager?” Jacob asked, knowing full well that bets between the two of them were completely pointless. Speaking from their own statistics, the elder twin tended to win most of their friendly competitions. Evie raised an eyebrow as her answer and slowly turned around again. One look at how hopelessly knotted the corset strings were, and Jacob felt as if he were in over his head.

He began nit-picking the slim strings, making slow but steady progress in de-knotting them. He mumbled something about it not being fair that she went ahead and made such a mess of them before he had a shot at the corset—“for such a nimble assassin, you are quite the clumsy dresser”—which earned him a swift stomp on the foot.

Chuckling, he finally started his work on tying up the corset, which, lo and behold, proved to be more difficult than he imagined. Not only did he have to make it tight enough for the dress to stay in place, he had to make the strings cross elegantly over Evie’s back. “I have to admit, I barely recognize you with how much skin you’re showing off.” The both of them were almost always covered from head to toe in traditional assassin clothing. But Jacob wasn’t complaining from the sight of Evie’s pale and freckled shoulders.

He thought his comment would result in another foot smashing, but Evie remained uncharacteristically still. “I’m not ‘showing off.’ This is what women my age wear, apparently. Besides, I didn’t have a choice in which dress Mrs. Disraeli gave me—oh!” Her air was cut off when Jacob firmly pulled the corset together in the back. After a short cough, Evie straightened her posture and ignored Jacob’s quiet apology. Great Scott, how did women breathe in those medieval things?

With the corset finally tightened, Jacob settled a hand on his sister’s waist and stepped in front of her, smiling. “I mean it. You are lovely.” The pout she threw him made Jacob notice the hint of gloss on her lips. How adorable.

“That could be a bad thing.” Evie reached for Jacob’s top hat and placed it on his head, her eyes first watching her own movements, then meeting her brother’s. She smiled back. “If everyone’s eyes are on me, I won’t be able to sneak off.”

Jacob now held both hands on Evie’s waist, and his expression resembled something of possessiveness. “The only eyes on you tonight had better be my own. Anyone else will have to answer to me.”

He thought he heard his twin say something under her breath about him being ‘indeed, very possessive,’ but when he questioned her, she swore she said nothing.

Evie laughed softly, the sound lifting Jacob’s mood again. “Now, Mr. Jacob Frye. Your eyes should be on the mission, and not your sister.”

She pulled away from him with a quick kiss to his cheek, going to gather her weapons in a bag to deliver to Mr. Abberline. Jacob shook his head and followed her, smirking to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write a scene from the ball because they both looked so damn attractive that I needed more of it. It's set in Jacob's perspective as my own way of gushing about Evie. She's the true queen here, guys.
> 
> Why do video games keep making family memebers so shippable? Next chapter has the main story.


	2. The Fashionable Frye Twins

After parting ways with his sister at the ball, Jacob was able to keep his mind on the mission. For a little while, at least. Evie disappeared somewhere in the courtyard, looking for clues to find the map to the Shroud’s hiding place. Jacob’s objective was to finally assassinate the last remaining Templar and put an end to his reign over London, but he could do nothing without his weapons.

Abberline had told Jacob to rendezvous on the eastern end of Buckingham Palace’s roof, but the assassin had entered the party from the western end. He could easily scale whichever wall closest to him and run across the roof, even without his grappling launcher. And without being detected, no doubt. Just as he was about to embark on that very same plan, he caught sight of Evie.

She stood near the table offering fancy drinks, chatting idly with another young woman. Jacob could tell this woman was of no importance to the mission. She had probably trapped Evie in the nobility’s notoriously boring small talk, and he could practically hear Evie begging for a way out of the dreadful conversation.

“No distractions from the mission, sweet sister,” Jacob joked to himself, straightening his jacket and making his way over to the drinks table. As he neared, he listened to what the lady chattered so happily about to Evie.

“And I swear, my husband was so surprised by the news of my pregnancy that he nearly fainted on the spot!” She giggled like the details of her own story were actually entertaining, and Evie humored her with a small grin. When she noticed Jacob, however, her gaze did indeed plead for help. And Jacob was all-too-willing to oblige.

He cleared his throat, and the young woman directed her attention towards him. “Pardon the intrusion, my lady,” Jacob took her hand and bent down to kiss it, “but I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to introduce ourselves yet.”

Of course, she blushed. “I’m Mrs. Harrison, sir.” She pulled her hand away, emphasizing the fact that she was married with a smile. “And you are?”

“Jacob Frye, though you may have never heard that name before. This charming young lady you’ve been so gracefully enthralling is my sister, Evie.”

“Oh, are you new to London?” Mrs. Harrison seemed to have forgotten Evie’s presence altogether.

“You could say that,” Jacob answered with a knowing glance in his twin’s direction. “You’re a native, then? I’m sure you could tell me all about this wonderful city and her secrets. Something can’t be as beautiful as London with nothing to hide.”

Mrs. Harrison giggled shamelessly, and Evie gently nudged her brother’s shoulder. “Jacob,” she whispered in a warning tone, something that greatly amused him.

“Ah, perhaps another time. I think my sister is trying to ask me for a dance.” Jacob bowed out with a wink and took Evie along by the hand. Before she could protest, he led her out onto the dance floor and placed a hand on her waist, a seamless transition into a slow waltz.

“That was not funny,” she scolded, falling easily into step with Jacob.

“Really? I thought I was hilarious.” The casual smile did not leave Jacob’s lips.

“Of course you thought so,” Evie chided before speaking up again. “You can’t say things like that to random women. Ask another girl about ‘the secrets of London,’ and you’ll wind up attracting more suspicion than we need.”

They weaved between the other couples on the dance floor, blending in, disappearing, and became invisible to the party guests. It was heaven for an assassin. The delicate and flourishing gas lamps dotting the court yard made for excellent mood lighting, and Jacob entertained the thought that this could be a rather nice date under different circumstances. At least he still had one dance with his sister.

“I did what you wanted me to do and politely excused you from her unyielding grasp.” Jacob glanced around at all the nobles blathering on about pointless rubbish. “I’d sooner enter a gang fight unarmed than suffer through an evening with one of these gents.”

“That hardly a choice of substance. You and fighting go together better than Clara and pigtails,” Evie remarked with the hint of a playful smile.

Jacob’s expression mirrored his twin’s. “How do you propose we proceed from here, Miss Frye?  In regards to the mission, that is.”

Evie’s eyes wandered about their surroundings to get a lay of the land, so to speak. “In a moment, this dance will require us to separate and find new partners. When that happens, take the opportunity to sneak away to the inspector. I will stay here and keep searching. No more delays to the mission.” She finished her instruction with a stern nod, and Jacob returned the gesture to convey his agreement. While Evie tended to sound bossy, he knew when to take her plans seriously. She had a knack for being right most of the time.

The music changed tempo, signaling that it was almost time for the dancers to entwine and mingle with someone new. Jacob’s grasp on Evie’s hip tightened fractionally, and he found himself not wanting to give her up to someone else. Foolish. Now was not the time to be playing romance with his twin.

“Have you found anything that points in the direction of the Shroud?”

“There isn’t an X to mark the spot, Jacob, but I’m fairly close. As soon as I’m certain of the cave entrance’s whereabouts, I’ll take to it straight away.”

Just before Jacob had to let go, he pulled Evie close and brought his lips to her ear. “Good luck, sister,” he whispered. Evie locked arms with another gentleman and was whisked away in a different direction. From across the dance floor, the twins’ gazes met momentarily, and Evie smiled to him as if to say ‘to you as well.’

He couldn’t stand there forever, so Jacob ignored the middle-aged lady approaching him for a dance and resumed his trek to the roof of the palace.

It felt better than ever to be back in his assassin gear. He left Mr. Disraeli’s impractical suit—and that imposing cravat—in the supply closet where he had picked up his weapons. Jacob had a passing thought that once the mission was completed, Evie would insist on him returning the clothes he borrowed.

Crouched in a shadow on the roof, hood covering his face once again, Jacob felt unstoppable. His eyes scanned the festivities as he made sure nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The dancers still swayed back and forth in the courtyard, and everything appeared to be as it should. No sight of Starrick, however. Perhaps he was not in attendance after all. For a second, Jacob feared that he had already located the Shroud.

His eyes searched the crowd more hastily as mild panic set in. Where was his sister? They needed to meet again to discuss the suspicious absence of the Templar. When he finally found Evie, he experienced a brief moment of reprieve until he recognized who had taken her up as a dance partner. It was him. Crawford Starrick.

Jacob focused completely on the pair and tuned out anything else. He could see Starrick talking but couldn’t read his lips well enough to know what he spoke of. Evie’s expression seemed that of concentration and calculation. She must’ve been taking in every detail of Starrick’s words and formulating the best course of action. Always the more patient twin.

Contrasting with Evie’s outwardly calm demeanor, Jacob’s heart thudded loudly with anxiety in his chest. He resisted the instinct to zeppelin down to them and spear Starrick right in the trachea. If he inserted himself into the obviously delicate situation, Starrick could flee. And Evie would never forgive Jacob for letting him get away.

So he waited, staying his blade and his breath as he watched the dance continue. The most intrusive thought in Jacob’s head was that not only was his sister at the hands of the most evil man in London, but that she was _in his hands_ at all. It sickened him to watch them dance like all the couples surrounding them. Now was not the time to be jealous, Jacob, but maybe Evie had been right with her utterance earlier on the train about him being possessive. Starrick could be the bloody queen of England, and Jacob would still run him through for getting so close.

The Templar must have said something to trigger Evie into action because her body went rigid in anticipated battle. She raised a foot and brought it down strikingly quickly on Starrick’s own. Oh, Jacob could speak from experience that a kick to the foot from Evie felt anything but pleasant. Starrick stumbled from surprise and pain, but he swiftly doubled back and prevented Evie from making an escape. By now, the other dancers had stopped and turned, looking on in confusion and eventual horror when they understood what was happening.

Starrick pulled Evie dangerously close. Jacob didn’t know what kind of weapons the man concealed and smuggled into the ball, but he wasn’t about to risk waiting to find out. He stood and deployed the grapping hook. It attached to a low gas lamp near the dance floor, and Jacob rode the cable down as fast as bullet. As he descended into position over his sister and the Templar, he dropped down and violently shoved him away.

The fingers of Jacob’s left hand curled around Evie’s bicep, and he simultaneously pulled her behind him, acting as a shield between her and Starrick. Getting to his feet, Starrick squared off and stalked closer to the twins. Jacob didn’t hesitate in producing his revolver and aiming it straight ahead. Gasps and a handful of shocked screams reached them from the crowd of party guests. Starrick seemed only mildly deterred, but another source of commotion prevented him from revealing whatever weapon he had on himself.

“Jacob, wait—!” Evie called desperately, reaching up to lower Jacob’s arm holding the gun. He remained steady, seeing only red as his thumb cocked the gun and his finger prepared to pull the trigger. A squad of guards dressed in royal uniforms appeared in his line of fire, and it took Jacob more than a second to register their presence. They advanced on him, obviously thinking he was the only criminal in the vicinity. Jacob was troubled with the choice of staying to kill the sole remaining Templar or fleeing to avoid arrest.

The latter sounded better. With instantaneous maneuvers, Jacob sheathed his gun and wrapped his right arm tightly round Evie’s waist. He raised his other arm, shooting the grappling hook back toward the palace roof. As soon as it caught, the twins launched into the air. In due time, too, because the guards closed in on the very same spot the assassins had just been standing. When their shoes connected with the roof, Jacob released his sister and glanced back to see if anyone pursued them. At the last moment, he watched Starrick flee into the garden behind the palace walls. Oh, bugger.

Evie could barely jog, let alone run, across the roof with the tightness of her corset, so her brother caught up to her easily. Taking her hand, he directed them to the closet Jacob had originally been using to stow away his weapons. It was large enough to hide the two of them, so Jacob stepped behind the fabric covering the opening and pulled Evie inside along with. As he pressed his back to one side of it, she did the same on the other side, and they remained facing one another.

He watched as she took a breath to calm herself. The run along the roof, although short, left her gently panting and flushed. Perhaps it was because of the adrenaline from the events that transpired over the course of a few minutes. When she finally raised her eyes to look at him, he could see the composure in them.

Some strands of hair had fallen from the braid and hung loose on Evie’s forehead. Jacob took the liberty of carefully tucking those strands behind her ear, and Evie accepted the affectionate gesture with a soft smile.

“What? No witty remark about my dance with the devil?” Her smile shifted into a teasing grin.

“In due time. I need to do something first,” Jacob replied, and his arms wrapped around her as soon as the words left his mouth.

Evie returned the embrace immediately, her arms draping over his shoulders on their own accord. She hid her face against his neck and let out another, more content breath. Jacob could feel her fingers playing with the hair at the back of his head.

“I don’t think I need to say it, but you nearly gave me a heart attack,” he admitted after a few peaceful moments of silence.

Evie released her hold to look into his face. The makeup around her eyes had smudged, prompting Jacob to wipe the faint smears of black kohl off of her cheekbones. His hand lingered, and Evie leaned into the caress. Another moment of serene stillness.

Jacob held her face with both hands and surrendered himself to the impulse that had haunted him for the longest time. He brought her closer and she went willingly. In the dark, their lips met in a chaste yet meaningful kiss. Evie melted against him, their bodies fusing comfortably together as she leaned her weight forward, and Jacob wasn’t far behind in following her lead. Her mouth pressed against his own with such confidence that Jacob felt something akin to electricity running through his limbs. When they parted, both decided that they didn’t have enough and connected in the middle again. And so on. Until the closet filled with sounds of soft and slow kisses.

Evie tasted of sweat, which didn’t surprise him in the slightest. She was by no means ladylike in society’s standards, but she held her own gracefulness that transcended wearing a dress and knowing how to hold a teacup. She was brash and calloused, soft and feminine, strong and intelligent all at the same time. No mean feat in Jacob’s book.

However long the kiss lasted, he felt as if it wasn’t as long as it should have been. But he did eventually stop, and he hoped Evie’s next move wasn’t to slap him in the face for initiating such a thing.

The expression she showed, however, was nothing but her calm and casual smile that she allowed herself to wear around him. “I’m still waiting on that witty remark, dear brother,” she told him, shaking her head with a light laugh.

“I’ll think of one when I am no longer lost in your beautiful eyes, sweet sister.” Jacob grinned back just as cheekily.

“No lady with half a brain would fall for a line like that.” Evie pushed Jacob’s shoulder.

“I’ll try another one, then.”

He closed the already small space between them and let his hands fall on Evie’s hips. They gradually ascended, his palms brushing along the lacy fabric of the bodice. As he touched his forehead to his sister’s, his hands had made their way up her back and started pulling loose the first few strings at the top of her corset.

“’We already know how well I can fasten this for you. Shall we find out how well I can _un_ fasten it?’” Jacob spoke low and slow, intently watching Evie’s face for her reaction. She didn’t disappoint when her cheeks heated up in an unmistakable red blush that matched the color of her dress.

Again, she pushed her brother away. “And that kind of line will only earn you a knee to your scrotum.”

“Do you promise, Miss Frye?”

“Get out so I can change.”

Evie unceremoniously shoved Jacob out of their hiding place, and he laughed. When she emerged dressed in her assassin clothing, her hair redone to stay in place, she busied herself with concealing her weapons within the layers of fabric.

“I prefer you in this over a dress anyway.”

“Now _that_ is a line that could make me swoon.”


End file.
